Laughter and Harmony
by NaruYasha352
Summary: My attempt at one of those wacky, potentially annoying fics featuring an OC/Joker romance. Thanks to a handy step-by-step guide I stumbled upon which inspired it.
1. Left In The Cold

**Disclaimer - **I do not own The Dark Knight or its characters. I'm just squirting out (a poor attempt at) an OC/Joker romance from sheer boredom, to see if I could.

**Secondary Disclaimer -** Inspired by **How to Write a Bad TDK Romance** by Steven 'Janus' Apollo.

* * *

**Chapter 1 - Left In The Cold**

In her run down apartment on the worst side of Gotham City, Harmony Skye Valentina sat crying into a pillow. The rent was due and she had no money to pay it, her greedy landlord was cruel and kept demanding it early while threatening to throw her out. She could barely afford food and clothing as it was. The power was out because she hadn't been able to pay that bill last week and it got shut off. Neither could she afford to keep the heat on (and it was November and the winters in Gotham got bitterly cold). Harmony currently sat in the frigid darkness, surrounded by candles, wearing her modest black slacks, a custom made crimson and black striped Smashing Pumpkins t-shirt, and a purple shawl her grandmother had given her before she had passed away two years ago. Sniffling, Harmony recalled better days living with her dear late Grammy-Ma, who was never as mean to her as her own family.

When she was a baby, her parents hadn't wanted her. Though her mother had refused to abort her due to her religious upbringing, she also refused to give Harmony up for adoption. Her father hated her mother for bringing what he referred to as a "burden" on them both into the world. Her parents were surprisingly rich though, there was no real reason they shouldn't have been able to care well for a baby girl, but they didn't. They denied her a happy childhood, including toys and clothes. She often went to school in torn old clothes her parents got from shelters and thrift stores. The other children made fun of her every day and called her Bag Lady and Rag Girl. She couldn't get her parents to give her proper lunches either. They gave her stale bread and peanut butter or sometimes hard cheese on stale bread. The children always tormented her viciously about that, saying she was like a rat and if she was hungry she should go eat out of dumpsters like a rat. Harmony came home in tears every single day until she was sixteen when she got a job at a local burger eatery and was finally able to afford decent clothes.

This only made her parents despise and reject her more. They scoffed and told her that if she could pay for her own things then she didn't have to mooch off them anymore. They kicked her out of the house, forcing her to live on her own. It was right before the start of winter, too, and she nearly died from freezing in the chilling weather before she made enough money to get into a modest apartment complex.

When she entered high school, life was still troubling even though she had employment. Her parents had cut off all contact with her, now pretending like she didn't even exist. Harmony was filled with sadness over her own family hating her so much but she eventually stopped caring, trying to convince herself for years that she was somehow better off without them in her life. The kids in high school kept tormenting her once again, even though she dressed better, in much nicer clothing, and could afford to take care of herself. This time it was the same song, a different tune. Harmony had begun to dress sexier and more carefree to make herself feel better, but now all the other girls who hated her and always gossiped about her called her a slut and a whore behind her back, just because she was pretty in a natural way when they all wore tons of makeup to school every day, spending hours in the bathrooms doing touch ups and fixing their hair. They were jealous that Harmony's thick, golden blond colored hair was so easily maintainable and came with its own natural lustrous shine. They all hated that she barely wore any makeup herself except a touch of eyeliner and rose lipstick that only accentuated her naturally plump lips. They despised the fact that she was also kept in shape by all the running around she had to do at work (and she also took a few exercise classes when she had extra cash to do so). Her body was naturally tight and toned. Her childhood had left her severely underweight, but over the years she had become quite a different person.

It turned out she was a truly voluptuous young women after all. Every year she only grew more so, and more beautiful, and it made everyone else around her hate her so much.

When she entered college, she'd almost become fed up with her own life. The days were so hard to get through, every year came with new nasty legions of young women who mocked Harmony and called her horrible names and spread awful lies about her. The teachers didn't understand how hard it was for her to balance classes and keep her jobs (she'd had to get two to keep up with her rent, the cruel landlord had replaced the old nicer one). Her grades were erratic and she was often so tired. She kept nodding off in class and missing lectures. Her only friend, June Deisart, had finally landed a boyfriend earlier this year and their relationship was blooming into almost certain marriage prospects. She used to rely on June for help to catch up on notes and studies, but now June was always busy with her own wonderful life. Harmony refused to let herself give in to jealously. She wished her friend the best of luck and kept on toughing things out by herself. But her sanity was waning with each passing week, and another winter was coming up fast. The bills were piling up more and more, her second cleaning job had recently laid her off, now she couldn't keep up with the bills and rent any longer.

Not that her landlord cared. He had just come stomping up the stairs not but twenty minutes ago and pounded on her door. Harmony thought he'd go breaking it right from its hinges. Startled from an already troubled cat-nap, Harmony ran to answer it. When she did, she just got more bad news thrown upon her. If she didn't pay up now, he was going to toss her out on her ass in the freezing cold. He didn't give a damn how much she cried or pleaded to him. When he'd gone, she walked as if in a daze back to the middle of the living room and sat down with her pillow in her arms. A huge wave of grief hit her and Harmony began to sob uncontrollably. She couldn't even begin to think of how she was going to come up with rent money before the end of the week. Her bitter thoughts grew darker and darker, her world spinning as the tears poured from her piercing blue eyes.

What was she going to have to do, rob a bank?

Harmony began to laugh uncontrollably at the thought of resorting to crime to pay her own rent. She laughed until her sides began to ache. Wiping away the tears, she became serious and for the first time in her life contemplated the crazy thought of pulling a crime. When she was this desperate, it didn't seem as crazy as it would be to a normal person, one living a happy and contented life. And she was far from content at the moment.

Sniffling again and wiping more tears from her paled cheeks, Harmony remember that in hidden away in the back of her closet was the handgun that she had purchased for protection when she came to live here. She had been thankful in all her years of living in this crime infested hellhole, she'd never been forced to use it. There had only been a few scares, mostly loud noises and domestic disturbances not involving her. Slowly, she got up and made her way to the closet where she rifled through her modest selection of clothes. This year she hadn't even been able to afford a warm coat for winter, all she had was a torn up jacket that didn't provide much protection from the harsh elements. She pushed it out of the way and choked back another sob while digging in the back of the closet for the shoebox the handgun was kept in.

"I can't believe I'm even doing this," Harmony wailed as her hands fell on the dusty shoebox. "Has my life really become this horrible?" She placed the box down on the worn old mattress that was her bed. Shaky hands lifted the lid. She wiped more flowing tears from her eyes and sniffled yet again, her mind racing as she stared down into the shoebox.

The shiny handgun sat there, waiting for her decision.

"I can't possibly rob a bank," she moaned, crumpling to the edge of the bed and putting her face in her hands.

A few minutes passed before she got a grip on herself and stopped sobbing so pitifully. Again she looked at the handgun. It looked demonic in the red glow that came through the window, from a neon sign of the bar/comedy club across from the apartments. The place was called Devlin's Barrel Of Laughs. The sign had a chubby, laughing red devil made out of the neon lights, waving a pitchfork up and down. In the dead silence and in her mind, she could almost hear the sign's gears and levers grinding away, creaking in the cold night, trying to encourage her into a path of wickedness.

"Can I?" Harmony wondered aloud. Timidly, she reached down to pick up the handgun. She hadn't even used it, but for some reason holding it felt almost natural to her, not awkward and frightening like she had assumed. She pointed it at the window (knowing it had no bullets loaded in it yet, they were still in the shoebox) and let her finger press on the trigger. _Could I really pull this trigger if I had to? _she wondered. "I don't think I'd ever be able to, even if I was fighting for my own life."

The thought made Harmony want to cry even more. She felt like such a failure. A pushover, a weakling. No matter how she tried to be better and laugh in the face of her miserable life, her fearful emotions always got the best of her. She broke back into sobs, letting the handgun fall back onto the mattress while her hands pressed against her face. Nothing could hold back her pitiful tears.

Her mind gave one last attempt to kick her into motivation: well, if you don't do _something _drastic, you're out on your ass in the dead of winter. Good luck finding a homeless shelter that's not full up this time of year, and good luck finding free food, idiot. You're always going to be stepped on because you won't do anything to fight back. All you do is cry. Cry, cry, cry! Why don't you try laughing once in a while?

"Why should I laugh? I have nothing to laugh about!" Harmony cried out, responding to her own twisted subconscious thoughts.

Yes you do. Your life is_ one big joke!_ her mind taunted.

Letting out a cry of anguish, Harmony rushed over to the closet. She dug out an old clown mask from one of June's Halloween parties. Fleeting thoughts of brief happy moments in her life were drowned out by her pain and rage. She stuffed the mask and the handgun into her purse.

"You're right! My life _is _a joke! Why shouldn't I laugh? I might as well," she ranted, furiously wiping away her still flowing tears. She stormed out of her apartment and down the stairs to the basement laundry room.

There had always been a pile of forgotten, discarded clothes in one corner that nobody would bother to pick up. Inside the pile, Harmony found a black hooded sweatshirt and threw it on. It was several sizes too big for her and covered her body and head well enough for a decent disguise. She ignored the rotten smell of it and walked out the back door, into the snowy night. She couldn't rob a bank, but she could try to rob a convenience store. She had nothing to lose at this point, really. If she scrapped together enough money, she could at least pay the rent. If nobody caught her, that was. If she did get caught, oh well. Maybe prison wouldn't be so bad. She'd be indoors for the winter and they'd have to give her meals. Cautiously, she made her way down the streets, heading as quickly as possible to her target.

Every shadow seemed to creep out at her and every little noise made her heart jump into her throat. Most of the sudden sounds were the stray cats trying to scrounge up their own meals. Harmony's mind only conjured up threatening monsters lurking in every corner, waiting to jump out and end her miserable life for good. By the time she reached the 24/7 Mom and Pop owned store which she had planned as the easiest target, she felt like she would snap and begin screaming. Her feet became rooted to the cement in front of the store's window and her body began to shake. The gun felt heavy and foreign now. Her hand was sweaty as she reached for the latex mask.

"Oh, god, I _can't _do it," she whispered pitifully. Showtime had come, but she couldn't go through with it after all. How completely pitiful. Her bottom lip quivered while she held in another round of tears. "I'm so screwed!"

Somehow she made it inside the store, if only to warm back up for a few minutes. This might be the last time she would ever feel the warmth of indoors, unless she pulled the gun out right then and threatened the clerk in a deliberate attempt to go to jail. The thought of going to prison wasn't very appealing, even if it would provide shelter and food to her. She might get shanked or raped. Sniffling, she turned and immediately went to the back of the store, casually, trying not to let the clerk see her. She didn't need him to become suspicious and kick her back out, or god forbid, think she was shoplifting and ask her to open the purse. But the clerk had his face buried in a newspaper. The front page had a large article on the infamous Batman of Gotham City. Harmony was thankful he hadn't bothered to look up from it even when the bell above the door sounded upon her entering.

"God help me, I can't believe I made it this far," sniffled Harmony, pretending to browse through the drink cooler. Bitterly, she stared into a rack of ice teas without seeing the drinks inside through her own welling tears. "I can't believe I'm inside here and there's a gun in my fucking purse. That's it, I've officially gone crazy! My life is over!"

She would have to face facts, she wasn't robbing this place. Her plan had failed before it even began.

Feeling helpless and lost, she continued to stare blankly into the cooler, lost in her own miserable thoughts. She didn't hear the bell ding again, signaling another customer. With tears sliding down her cheeks even as the colored returned to them, she grabbed the cheapest bag of potato chips on the shelf and made her way to the counter. When she came out of the aisle, she stepped behind the man in the purple suit standing at the counter, without even realizing the clerk's hands were in the air.

"Normally I don't resort to simple jobs like this one," said the man in front of her in a quirky, yet ominously dark voice, "but, ah, you see, during these long winters, I get _bored_."


	2. The Heist

**Chapter 2 - The Heist**

"Guy's got to have a _hobby_," said the man in purple, leaning to one side as if tipsy from an evening of bar hopping. But there were no traces of the familiar stench of alcohol around him or on his breath. "Idle hands are the Devil's work, as the saying goes. Ha ha ha, ah, haaaa."

Fearfully, Harmony took a step back, the realization of what was happening finally hitting her like a ton of bricks. What a bizarre coincidence, the store was being held up by somebody _else_. Somebody who obviously knew what they were doing, unlike her. She inhaled, dumbly hoping the man hadn't noticed another person in the store besides himself and the clerk. She hoped she could shrink back into the aisles and hide. God only knew what this guy would do. He could be more desperate than her, or maybe a disturbed individual looking for quick cash, or even nothing more than sick kicks.

"Now, ah, would you open that register for me?"

"Please, I only have forty dollars in the register! Less than fifty in cash, always! It's the store policy! Please, do not shoot!" the clerk pleaded in a thick, indeterminable accent, panicked close to tears by the revolver at his face. His hand lowered to the register slowly. "I have a family, please."

Harmony couldn't help but feel her heart leap into her throat again. She'd almost held up this poor man herself, and for a mere forty dollars. She felt a sudden sickness churning through her, she hated herself. She suddenly wanted to stop this criminal but was too afraid. All she could do was keep shrinking back with each silent step, hoping the armed man wouldn't turn around and see her.

"Forty, eh? Well, ah, how about we throw in some cigarettes." The man in purple waved his gun at the cigarette/liqueur rack behind the clerk.

The clerk obediently turned to face the rack after he'd placed the money on the counter. "Please, don't shoot, I'll give anything you want! Anything! Which ones do you want?"

"I don't know, I don't smoke. Just give me some."

The clerk grabbed a handful of boxes and placed them on the counter. The man in purple browsed the candy shelf and tossed a king sized Snickers bar onto the counter.

Harmony's thigh came into contact with the shelf beside her and jostled a jar of peanut butter off it. She let out a gasp as the plastic jar fell three feet and made a unbearably loud thump on the floor. The man in purple turned around and licked his lips.

"Well_. _Hell-_o_ there, bea_utiful_."

Breath caught in her throat, Harmony stared at the man's white makeup covered face. There were splotches of black around his eyes and a streak of red around his lips, giving him a frightfully deranged, clownish appearance. His greasy hair was tinted green and hung messily around his head.

At that moment, an old page of the Gotham Times came into her memory, clear as day. June had purchased it and shown it to her nonstop. Its hottest story featured the crazed psychopath who had tormented Gotham for months until his capture, supposedly by the mysterious vigilante turned outlaw, Batman. This man standing before her right now was that very man: The _Joker_.

"Oh my god, I'm going to die," Harmony whispered under her breath, absolutely terrified.

Panicking, she struggled for a means of self-defense, knowing it could mean her very life or death. She fumbled with her purse. The Joker had the gun currently aimed on the clerk and not her. She had to pull out her gun and fire before he did, it was her only chance. At that moment, thoughts of her almost certain eviction and current financial woes escaped her. All she could think about was saving herself from this violent criminal madman.

"S-stop," she whispered at him. "D-don't come any closer!" Her voice remained a harsh whisper no matter how intimidating she tried to force herself to be. "I have," she began but stopped. Oh god, don't _tell_ him you have a gun! she cried inside her brain. "A _weapon!_" she blurted out.

"Oh?" The Joker only looked amused. He obviously wanted to see her pull it out. Behind him, the clerk was frozen stiff, eyes wide with fright.

Harmony grabbed out the mask from the purse instead of the handgun. She held it up, feeling confused, and then mortified.

Dead, dead, dead, she was so dead. She would die right there from pure embarrassment if the crazed Joker didn't put a bullet through her brain. Her trembling hand lowered the latex clown mask. She dropped the purse, feeling too weak to hold onto it any longer. To her shock, the Joker began to giggle.

"Oh! Using_ comedy_ as a weapon. I _like_ that," the Joker responded happily. "I _like _it." He turned around and faced her, lowering the weapon, his attention completely drawn away from his own stick up. "What's your name?"

Harmony's mouth worked to produce words. It kept making nothing but silent motions as he strode over and leaned down to peer into her hooded face. "Har...Har..."

Joker nodded, his hands gesturing while his own mouth began to form silent words, mimicking her. "Har...Har...Harley?"

"Har-mony," she finished weakly, feeling faint.

"_Harm_-oh-n_eeeee_," Joker repeated slowly, nodding. He licked his lips, bringing Harmony's attention to the grotesque scars on the sides of his mouth. In print they hadn't been so awful, but up close, in person, they were both horrifying and strangely fascinating.

"Please," Harmony spoke so softly that she might as well not have been speaking at all, "Don't kill me."

The Joker looked at her funny, like he didn't know what she was talking about. "_Kill _you?" He poked his tongue at the inside of his mouth and smacked his lips before continuing. "Why would I do that?"

Harmony shrank back, whimpering, trying not to look him in the face as he attempted to look into hers. Her bladder threatened to loosen itself at that very moment, and she screamed inside her mind while clenching every muscle in her body as tightly as possible. This was a bad omen, punishment for ever thinking she could commit a robbery. Now she was going to pay dearly for her own stupidity. She felt a gentle tweaking of her hair, right at the edge of the hood. The man in purple was rubbing a lock of it between his purple gloved fingers.

"What conditioner do you use?" he asked with utmost interest.

"L-L-L'Oréal...Everpure," Harmony answered in a small voice.

"Ah. Is that good for split ends?"

"Y-yes."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

"Ah."

The Joker released Harmony's hair, but kept standing nearly on top of her, making her increasingly frightened with each passing second. Again he attempted to peer into her face. Again she avoided eye contact as much as possible. He gave up eventually, and inhaled a long breath after licking his lips. "You look like a young woman who's going through a bit of a _crisis_." Suddenly he reached back and lifted his hand to her chin, forcefully pulling her to face him. Harmony let out a little squeak. "It's common courtesy to _look_ at people when they're trying to speak to you," he hissed in a voice much lower and more menacing than his previous. It went back to his regular voice as he continued talking. "Are you going through a _crisis_, Harmony? Is that why you came in here, with that dime store mask, and that dusty old gun in your purse?"

"M-maybe," she uttered after a short silence, the tears streaking down her face.

Joker nodded as if in a light form of sympathy. But Harmony knew somebody like him wouldn't understand or care about any of her problems. He only wanted either a hostage in case the police showed up, or something so much worse, she couldn't bring herself to imagine it.

"Tell you what, I _like_ you, Harmony. I like you a_ lot_. And I've only known you for," he checked the stolen watch on his wrist, "let's see, about three minutes." Joker placed an arm around the young woman's tensing body and began to usher her along with him, back toward the front counter. Harmony was powerless to stop her own feet from stumbling blindly forward in time with his. "But I feel like I've known you for years. Yes, I think you and I, meeting here, was _destined _to be." He smacked his lips and nodded his head. The clerk began to break down and sob at their approach.

Harmony stood at the front counter with the Joker beside her, mere inches away from her rigid, trembling body. She couldn't bear to imagine what would happen next, but she could foresee it clearly. There was a bullet with her name on it somewhere within the next few minutes. On the morbidly bright side, she would never have to see the inside of a prison, or worry about all her previous financial woes and life's ever present miseries. They would be gone forever, washed away in a violent splash of her warm blood.

"I feel like we have a lot in common, and we just don't _know _it yet," Joker said while grinning strangely at the clerk, who looked ready to faint at any moment. He raised the weapon and pointed the line of fire into the man's face once again. The man sobbed louder.

"No, don't kill him!" Harmony shouted.

She couldn't believe what she was doing, but she felt gripped by a sudden, desperate urge to amend this horrific situation, even if that meant giving up her life to save this poor man's. The very man who she had be willing to rob and possibly murder if need be, before her extreme change of heart, brought on by mere cowardice. And before that, she had been willing to try and stop the Joker, but only to selfishly save her own life. Now she was throwing it away in a desperate attempt to redeem herself at the last possible moment.

The Joker's gun fired at the wall. The clerk gasped and fell to the floor in a dead faint, unconscious but alive. Harmony let out a small shriek of horror and cringed. Her ears hurt from being so close to the shot. They rang horribly, but even so, she could very clearly hear the sound of maddening, mirthful laughter. Through her pain and fright, she pressed on, now filled with the will power that had so abandoned her when she first came to the convenience store all those minutes ago. She grabbed out and snatched the Joker's gun from his hands. He was laughing hysterically, so hysterically and insanely that he appeared dead on drunk to any other eye but hers. The costumed clown stumbled about, finally steadying himself by placing a hand down on the counter. Harmony had the gun now, and it was pointed right at the Joker. But again, could she pull the trigger?

Yes, this time, she could. And she would. She would make everything right.

The Joker turned around, smiling at her with his extended, horrifying Glasgow grin. Harmony's will power was sapped by sheer terror for what felt like an eternity, yet was a mere few seconds. The mad clown leaned on the counter and gestured eagerly at her to fire at him.

"Come on, do it. I want you to do it. I want you to," he beckoned Harmony quite sadistically.

She obliged the madman. The gun fired loudly again, causing her to scream. The Joker's laughter filled the store. Gasping, Harmony's eyes popped open and she looked down at the gun in her hands. It had shot only blanks.

"You've got a little blood lust in you after all. I_ like_ that," complimented the Joker. "You know why that gun's not loaded? It's just a gag. See, I don't, ah, like guns. Not as much as I like_ knives_." To Harmony's renewed horror, Joker slid a ten inch long knife from the inside pocket of his purple jacket. As Harmony resorted to whimpering again, he stepped away from the counter, licking his lips. "Do you want to know why I use knives? Guns are too quick. You can't savor all of the little...emotions. In their last moments, people show you who they _really _are. So, in a way...Harmony...I'll be getting to know you right now better than your friends ever did in all the _years _they knew you."

He lunged at her with the knife. Harmony kicked him in the balls.

Joker fell down, giggling hysterically, panting for breath in a mixture of pain and (what appeared to be) pleasure.

"Ooh hoo hoo hoo ho ho ha ha hee hee!" Joker chortled insanely, clutching his throbbing testicles. The knife was still firmly grasped in his left hand.

Harmony did not risk an attempt for the Joker's knife. She instead backed away and tried to hold her ground even though her head was swimming and she wanted to both puke and pass out. She felt like she was in some crazy nightmare, and nothing was real anymore, her vision blurry and tear coated.

"Now see? _Harmony_," Joker said as he picked himself up from the floor. "You might _think _you're a coward, but you certainly aren't. And I learned that in the span of," he checked the stolen watch on his other wrist, "fifteen seconds."

Harmony looked at Joker, and Joker looked at Harmony. He used the knife to comb back his disheveled hair. Harmony stared blankly at him, feeling numb. Her life had become completely crazy ever since she had taken the clown mask and gun, and dared to leave her apartment in an attempt to solve her money woes the easy way. It was her punishment, she reminded herself. Her life really was one big joke. And now this lunatic, the Joker, criminal scourge of Gotham, clown prince of crime and all around murderous psychopath, had become part of it. He was right in his statements in the Gotham Times, about the people of Gotham losing their minds. It was funny, from a certain point of view.

Police sirens wailed in the distance, now about a block away from the sound of it. Somebody had heard the fake but convincing gun shots and phoned in a crime in progress.

"You want to get out of here? Have a coffee maybe? _Talk _about things?" Joker asked, squinting, and apparently very sincere.

Harmony began to giggle, though she tried hard to fight it. She wiped away the wet tear streaks with her soft, pale hands. "That depends. Are you buying?" she asked in a shaking voice.

"Yeah," he answered, grabbing the store's few present bills out of the register.

"Sure, why not," she responded.

"Then here...we...go!"

Joker grabbed her hand. The two of them ran through the doors with time to spare, as the police cars made their first turn around the corner and into visibility. They disappeared into the back alley. There Joker had a green and purple car hidden and waiting. Harmony wanted to wake herself up, but it wasn't a dream. Pinching herself on the hand proved it. She mechanically rushed over, opened the door, and thew herself into the passenger's seat of the car as the Joker got into the driver's side. She didn't bother to look around for the seatbelt. If she had, she would have noticed that there weren't any.

Chuckling sinisterly, Joker slammed his foot on the gas pedal and sped off, taking Harmony on what was soon to be the ride of her life.


End file.
